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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25436869">Come Fly With Me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancewithknives/pseuds/Dancewithknives'>Dancewithknives</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>overwatch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>100, A - Freeform, Angela "Mercy" Ziegler is an Angel, Cameo, Come, Evergarden, Gen, IF, Like, ME - Freeform, Make, Mercy - Freeform, Pharrah, Relaxing, Slice of Life, Soldier 76 - Freeform, Stars, Violet - Freeform, Will - Freeform, Young Fareeha "Pharah" Amari, also, farmdress, farmhouses, fly, gets, hideouts, lena - Freeform, likes, narcolypsy, or - Freeform, rides, something, that, this, with</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:09:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,681</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25436869</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancewithknives/pseuds/Dancewithknives</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hiding out at an old farmhouse, Fareeha Amari learns that the charge in her protection has more problems than meets the eye.</p><p>Approximately 19,000 words, will update once every few days.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fareeha "Pharah" Amari/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Fareeha "Pharah" Amari/Lena "Tracer" Oxton, Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison &amp; Angela "Mercy" Ziegler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Coverart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This is the coverart I had made for this.</p><p> </p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Come Fly with Me</p><p> </p><p>It was a cloudy, starless night, the moonlit skies were still, with not a sound beside the occasional gust of wind blowing over the farm fields of the Midwestern United States. The overcast clouds in the sky made for an incredibly dark night, which was both a good and bad thing. On one hand, it made travelers in the night almost invisible to the unassuming eye… but on the other, it made the engines of the flying VTOL craft easy to spot in the night sky. </p><p> </p><p>Flying at a relatively low altitude of 3,000 feet, the C-400 Hummingbird flew across the sky with its tail and wing lights off. The nose of the aircraft held an ovular cockpit which contained, among a variety of instruments and displays, a double seat for a pilot and copilot. The way it was designed, the bare C-400 bore a wide, but thin profile, with the area behind the cockpit making a sharp 90 degree angle to a top assembly which connected two large twin engines on both sides of the wings notwithstanding an extra thruster in the back to assist in mobility while hovering. The reason for such an open and strange aircraft was due to its adaptability. Depending on the job at hand, the C-400 could be configured to hold an assortment of carriages in its underbelly, from a fuel tank for in-air refueling missions, numerous vehicles of all sizes, cargo, weapon systems. As it was now, this craft had been configured to be a troop transport.</p><p> </p><p>The engines of the aircraft flew across the sky like two comets in the night, deliberately under their maximum power to not break the sound barrier and wake the sleepy American countryside. Although the aircraft was designed to be flown by two trained individuals, only one person was manning the helm of the cockpit on this mysterious night. Although not meant to be flown in such a manner, the pilot of the craft wore a Helix Securities blue and yellow set of Raptora personal lift armor, a large suit of mechanical armor that, while designed to protect its occupant, was also as complex as the aircraft that she flew in. A booster and a set of adjustable flexible wings were folded down on the pilot’s back, while the seat, which had been designed to accompany the possibility that an armored individual may have to man the helm, was designed to support the back of the armor and leave free room for the wing behind it. The weight of the entire unit was not meant for inter-vehicle operation, but the augmented strength of the armor made sure that Lieutenant Fareeha Amari was able to safely operate the craft without any issue.</p><p> </p><p>The Egyptian woman wasn’t sure what she was doing at the moment or where she was heading, but, for as much as she didn’t like to admit it, her source had been right on everything up to this point. If she really wanted answers, then she would have to keep flying west in the direction of the coordinates in the heart of flyover country.</p><p> </p><p>The C-400 was a military craft, a special variant contracted by Helix Securities. Therefore she was flying with her radio transceiver off, which meant that the RFID transponder was not sending out her coordinates to air traffic control or Helix Command, and the black box not recording her actions. As of this moment, she was completely AWOL. Somewhere in her mind, she was wondering what the consequences of her action would be, going rogue as she was. But she was more focused on keeping the unmarked craft at a low altitude and below the radar. After all, she knew that her superiors at the company were dealing with bigger problems at the moment.</p><p> </p><p>Two hours ago, a leader in the international field of medical research was almost assassinated on stage in front of thousands of onlookers. In the official statement by Helix Securities, it was the resourceful action of Helix’s diligent agents that dove into action to protect their VIP from the infamous terror organization known as Talon. Unofficially, to the inner mechanism of Helix, what had transpired was a cunning ruse to draw out the horrible terror cell to expose them for justice. Essentially, everything had been planned from the start and their agents had kept their charge completely safe from harm. When all was said and done, this would be the answer they would give at the end of the whole ordeal.</p><p> </p><p>In reality, Fareeha was beginning to get suspicious at the event. More and more of the anonymous tips and warnings that had been sent to her in the days leading up to the convention had begun to become too convenient to be coincidences. There had been doubts in her mind when she dove to the stage and stood in front of the keynote speaker, but the sniper’s bullet lodged in the breastplate of her armor had immediately rid any doubts from her mind. Since then, the predictions of this unnamed source were more than sufficient to believe that she should follow the instructions of the mysterious benefactor.</p><p> </p><p>The land below the transport was dark, just like the night sky above it, and doubts were beginning to set in once again as she neared her destination. However, that was not meant to be. Activating the night vision mode out of the nose camera of the Hummingbird, a bright light suddenly lit up on the ground. The pilot flipped off the night vision, and sure enough, the glow of a red emergency flare was visible on the ground below.</p><p> </p><p>Slowly, Fareeha pulled back the throttle from cruising speed and gradually began to lower towards the ground. Still thousands of feet in the air, the flare began to move, and then several more flares lit up on the ground. As she neared, the pilot investigated the promised landing site, and noticed that bright lights seemed to be near a house with its interior lights on, and the red burns were coming from a thicket of trees.  On her console, Fareeha flipped the lights for seatbelts to be buckled, and began to increase her descent to the ground.</p><p> </p><p>Now only a few hundred feet above ground, she flipped the jets into hover mode, and stabilized the VTOL, circling the area. Like a crown atop the soil’s head, there was a dense thicket of trees in the center of the seemingly endless miles of farmland. In the very heart of the canopy was an open area, of which a circle of 30-minute emergency flares highlighted the perimeter of the clearing, while someone stood with their lit flare waving it above their head.</p><p> </p><p>Still in hovering, Fareeha deployed the landing gear and kept descending until the aircraft jolted, a clear sign that they had landed. She spooled down the engines, waiting as the temperature lowered and she checked to make sure that all systems were in working order post-trip. As she did so, the person who had marked her landing zone was running around the area with a bucket of sand and stuffed the flares head first into the container to extinguish them.</p><p> </p><p>When she was ready, Fareeha hit the button to unlatch the hatch to the cockpit as well as the command to lower the door ramp to the troop compartment before exiting the vehicle. She swung herself over the edge and pulled the glass canopy of the cockpit shut before walking down the ladder that was built into the hull of the nosepiece, finally reaching the ground.</p><p> </p><p>When she turned away from the craft, she was initially blinded, her eyes drawn to the blue light in front of her, but after a moment to adjust, she was able to focus once more, getting a good look at the host of this rendezvous. Lena Oxton, wearing her usual spandex athletic wear underneath a slim-cut retrofitted WWII leather bomberjacket, was waiting behind her. As was always the case with Lena, a bright blue light was shining from the center of her chest, from the core of an experimental device which, as Fareeha had understood, was the only thing keeping anchored to this moment in the Space-Time Continuum.</p><p> </p><p>As long as she had remembered, Lena was always chipper, upbeat, which made sense after all that Lena had gone through, but not tonight. In this moment, standing with a bucket full of extinguished flares, she was all business. “Is everything alright?” she asked, her heavy English accent subdued as best as she could.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, it was a close call, but our VIP is secure.” Although having traveled around much of the world and spending much of her childhood in non-English speaking lands, Fareeha’s father was Canadian, and as such, her English was clear and passed with only the tiniest hint of an accent. The soldier motioned towards the back with a nod of her head, adding, “there’s a canopy in the back. Let’s cover this before it attracts too much attention.”</p><p> </p><p> The two women walked towards the back. Fareeha was a tall woman, but with her Raptora suit on, she was even more so, causing Lena, about a head and a half shorter in their current attire, to put some extra pep in her step to keep up. When they reached the back on the vehicle, the ramp had finally finished lowering to the ground, providing an egress from the dark within, and as they arrived, their “special cargo” was waiting for them.</p><p> </p><p>The lynchpin for this entire ordeal, Doctor Angela Ziegler, PHD, MD, stood at the opening of the transport ship with a hand on the side of the hull. Her shoes had a raised heel to them, and she was wearing a pair of black dress slacks and a salmon-pink dress shirt. Her bright blonde hair had been tied back in preparation for her address before an attempt on her life had ended the conference short. She waited, leaning against the hull of the ship until she saw the two women, and seeing her rescuer she attempted to stand, but wobbled on her legs.</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha, seeing the jelly-legs, shot a hand out, catching the doctor’s free hand and watched as she put all her weight against it, bracing against the coming fall.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you alright?” asked Lena.</p><p> </p><p>The doctor took a breath, but then looked up to see her savior and smiled, the blue lights from Lena’s time device reflecting in the blue of her eyes, “thank you.” She said, before reorienting herself and walking down the ramp. “Sorry,” the Swiss doctor admitted, “I couldn’t get my seatbelt on at all.”</p><p> </p><p>Still in soldier mode, Lt. Amari waited until the doctor was able to stand on her own before letting her go and asked Lena, “why don’t you take her inside, I’ll finish out here.”</p><p> </p><p>The good doctor attempted a humble protest, but Lena quickly said, “Rodger that,” and took ahold of the doctor’s arm, escorting her towards the house. Still a bit numb, Dr. Ziegler turned to look at Fareeha, but eventually allowed Lena to take her to the safe house.  </p><p> </p><p>As she had promised, Fareeha found the camouflage canopy in its compartment in the troop hold. From there, she unfolded it, and then used the anchor weights and threw them over the top of the vehicle, landing on the other side before stretching them across the ground to break the profile of the aircraft before using her augmented strength to stomp the stakes into the ground. After that, she walked into the troop hold one more time and began to disarm.</p><p> </p><p>When she walked out of the Hummingbird, she was wearing a tank top and a pair of blue cargo pants, the only hint of her current occupation was her issued sidearm strapped into a thigh holster on her leg. As she raised the ramp up to close, she closed her eyes and gave a sigh, unsure what the future had in store for her.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Fareeha regretted not throwing a jacket over her shoulders as she exited the shelter of trees, for the early April air was quite cold on this night. Internal air conditioning was something that she needed to stop taking for granted when not in her armored suit, because out in the wide open, the wind wrapped around her body and as soon as she left the safety of the trees.</p><p> </p><p>Regardless, she walked towards the nearby farmhouse, its internal lights were the only illumination on this dark night. As she approached, the farmhouse looked to be a small two story building, like a big square with a slanting roof that made a right angle. It was dark out, but it looked to have yellow siding at one point. Many glass windows were on the front face of the house, which acted as a beacon with its lights. Lastly, there was a wooden porch that had a three step staircase as well as an overhang above it.</p><p> </p><p>At the entry way, she was greeted with two sets of doors. The outer door was mainly made of small rectangular glass and wood. The door looked like it was covered in white paint but had been peeling away from years of abuse from the sun. The inner door was a much sturdier oak door, and being that it was open, it allowed Fareeha to see inside the home through the slamming glass door.</p><p> </p><p>She walked inside, seeing a small rug in the entrance way that was covered in mud and had few sets of shoes and boots beside it. Immediately in front of her was a staircase leading to the second floor, while the rest of the room around her looked to be a family room. Something about the house was strange, like an uncanny valley of living spaces, almost. She could see someone living here, but at the same time, it looked like nobody had been here for ages. The carpet was old, the room had a couch and armchairs, but it felt like there had been more furniture in here at one time.</p><p> </p><p>The slamming door closed on its own behind her, bouncing on an air piston as it shut until it finally ended with a loud *SLAM* on the final part of its journey.</p><p> </p><p>The hinges on a door squeaked as they closed. Fareeha looked back from the front door and saw Lena as she rounded the corner. In the brief seconds before she turned the lights off in the room, it looked like she was standing in a kitchen. She walked forward into the family room and stopped before the younger woman, their height differences much less pronounced now.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s been a while, how’re you feelin’ luv?”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine.” She answered, “How are you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” she said before motioning towards the seating arrangements. “take a seat, I’ll give you the rundown of what we got.”</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha stepped aside and towards the couch, just noticing that the furniture was all covered with white cloths, but were tucked into the cushions like they had been used recently. She took a seat at the couch while Lena took the chair. As she sat, Lena unzipped the top of her jacket and reached inside, pulling out a small electronic tablet about the size of a hand and offered it to Fareeha. She activated the pad, and what she saw was a diagram of the house on the screen.</p><p> </p><p>“I set up motion detectors in the field ‘round the house. I’ve been testing ‘em after my mornin’ runs, and all are up and running.” Lena leaned forward and touched the screen, changing to a view watching them in the room that they currently were in. “I set up some whisper cameras in each room. We can access them from our tablets.”</p><p> </p><p>Growing up, Fareeha remembered Lena being like a big kid with her. It was strange seeing the more ‘strictly business’ side of her. But, she couldn’t be too surprised. She had been a professional soldier for a while. Looking away from her tablet and towards her cohort, Fareeha jokingly asked, “I’m not going to find any cameras looking into the shower now, am I?”</p><p> </p><p>Lena Oxton, likewise experiencing the odd feeling of their past history coming back, smiled and said,  “none that <em>you’re</em> going to find at least.”</p><p> </p><p>The dark skinned woman chuckled, “noted. What else do you have?”</p><p> </p><p>“Our rooms are upstairs, I packed a bag for you with some ammo and spare clothes. You’re at the top of the stairs, I’m down the hall. There’s a guest room on the ground floor as well, but I didn’t do anythin’ to it.”</p><p> </p><p>“And Angela?”</p><p> </p><p>“I put ‘er in the basement. It’s the most secure room we got. She seemed tired, so I let her rest. Also, we got a bit of food in the pantry if you need it.” Done with her report, Lena leaned forward and asked, “How are you holdin’ up, luv?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine,” she answered,” I cut things a little too close, but I’m glad I did it, anyways.” She said. Lena nodded before Fareeha continued, “So… what happens next?”</p><p> </p><p>“We wait.” She answered, “I wasn’t given much more instruction beyond that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm, me either. I suppose we should start a watch. I’m still wired tight right now. So I’ll take first watch.”</p><p> </p><p>Lena nodded in agreement, saying, “Alright, catch you in the morning, luv.” Before getting up to head upstairs.</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha watched her go upstairs before she leaned back in the chair, combing her hands through her silky black hair and taking a deep breath. It had been several hours since the ordeal happened, but she still had her post-combat- jitters. At first, she was worried about looking like a fool when she stepped in to block the hypothetical shot that had been intended for her subject. But now? Her mind was racing over the alternate universe where she didn’t act, and was now having to deal with Dr. Ziegler’s death on her conscience. She would have liked to familiarize herself with the area to keep her mind off the guilt of something that didn’t happen, but for now, it would less conspicuous to turn the lights off before anyone noticed the activity at the house.</p><p> </p><p>She stood, looking around for the lightswitch, but as she found it, something else caught her attention. Hidden from her position earlier in the doorway from earlier, she now saw the wall underneath the staircase. Nailed into the old flower wallpaper -which, in itself was something she hadn’t seen in a very long time- was a collage of framed pictures.</p><p> </p><p>Nowadays, almost everything was holographic and electronic, much more utilitarian and a great way to save space by having one frame filter one hundred pictures rather than one picture per frame. But not here, what she saw was life in motion, evidence that somebody had lived here at one point. At the wall by the dark kitchen, it began with a man and a woman, holding hands and being close to one and another, soon after came babies. First there was a little girl, then another, and then a baby boy in his father’s arms. The children grew as Fareeha walked down the wall, and before she reached the end, they boy began to shape into a young man. Fareeha had been raised on the other side of the world, but as she looked at the young man, she began to feel that she recognized him from somewhere, and that made her mind ponder things that didn’t really make sense.</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/>
<hr/><p>Beep.</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha opened her eyes. “<em>Was I sleeping</em>?” She thought. The last thing she remembered was sitting in the dark reflecting over the previous day, and now, as she looked at the world around her, a calming yellow light was flowing in through the windows as she sat in the embracing cushions of the couch.</p><p> </p><p>“Shit.” She whispered. That was careless of her. She should have gotten Lena to take over if she was that tired.</p><p> </p><p>Beep.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>What was that</em>?” she thought. Looking around from her sitting position until she heard the beep once more.</p><p> </p><p>She was about to stand up, and then remembered what Lena had given her the night before and reached into her pocket, pulling out the tablet. As soon as she did, her eyebrows stood on end at the sight that the motion detector at the front of the house had detected movement.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Just the wind…” </em>she thought, putting her hand down towards her thigh, unbuttoning the strap on the grip of her sidearm.</p><p> </p><p>Beep.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Just a stray dog…</em>” she thought, slowly sitting up straighter on the old couch.</p><p> </p><p>There was a creak as someone stepped up onto the porch of the house. Fareeha’s hand hovered over her pistol, and slowly inched closer as it reflexively made the shape of the grip. A shadow was casted over the door, blocking the light coming in through the glass on the slammer door. A hand reached out, pushing it open as a man-shaped figure with a heavy bag over his shoulder appeared in the doorway.</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha sprung to her feet, fingers wrapping around the grip of her sidearm and pulling it out of its seat, but before she could bring it to a full draw, she stopped, perplexed by the ghost that she saw.</p><p> </p><p>“Uncle Jack?” she asked, those words not being spoken in over a decade.</p><p> </p><p>Jack Morrison, standing in the doorway, looked over at the young woman and let his duffel bag slide off his shoulder and onto the floor. The slamming door closed behind him, but as it prepared for its final *SLAM*, his foot shot back and caught it, letting it ease in to close before saying, “It’s been a while, kiddo.”</p><hr/>
<hr/>
<hr/><p>Jack Morrison was looking good for a man who had been dead for nearly ten years. Just as Fareeha had remembered, he was a stocky and well-built man, but what she did not remember was how old he looked, his greying hair, or all of the scars on his body.</p><p> </p><p>The source of all of the mysterious messages that she had been receiving foretelling the events of the previous days, Commander Jack Morrison of Overwatch sat at the kitchen table with mug of coffee in front of him while Lena and Fareeha sat opposite of him. Overwatch, an organization that had saved the world during its darkest hour, had fallen under the weight of its own bureaucracy and corruption, and the final nail in its coffin came when a mysterious explosion at its Swiss headquarters seemed to have claimed the life of its commanding officer. To Fareeha, this was almost a family reunion of sorts, Jack was the commander of the organization, Dr. Ziegler in the basement had been his Chief Medical Officer, Lena a pilot and soldier, and Fareeha was their Base Brat; just a little girl at the time, and her mother being Jack’s second in command.</p><p> </p><p>It was strange, though, to think that Soldier:76, a vigilante on Interpol’s most wanted list, was a man who she had called “uncle” throughout her childhood.</p><p> </p><p>Anyway, as the two women sat, Jack Morrison explained all that had happened and had led them all to here, how an informant had revealed an assassination attempt to be made on Dr. Ziegler’s life, and how he wouldn’t have been able to stop it on his own, and instead needed the two to protect the doctor. From there, the plan was to have them hide out here in a safe place while he and his cohorts infiltrate Helix’s Chicago offices to expose the breach that allowed the events of the previous night to occur.</p><p> </p><p>As he explained, a creaking began to come from the door to the basement, growing closer until the squeaky hinges began to squeal as the door opened. An unmistakable accented voice then asked, “Is someone making coffee?”</p><p> </p><p>The door to the basement opened, and Angela Ziegler was standing at the doorway. Her hair was down, but with some jagged angles and curls from when it had been tied back and sprayed for her talk the night before, but what was much more interesting was what she wore. Instead of the professional look of a highly skilled surgeon and innovator, what she wore now was a set of boys’ athletic shorts and what looked to be an old football jersey made from synthetic cotton, with the name “Mulberry Mauraders” written across the chest. She had a hand up to her mouth, covering her yawn as she reached the doorway.</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha watched, and at the moment that the two senior members of the defunct organization locked eyes, Lena and her faded from existence. The doctor stood for a moment in the doorway, shocked at the sight of the man before her on a stool.</p><p> </p><p>“Angela,” he said, putting his coffee down, “how are you feeling?”</p><p> </p><p>Halting the yawn in its tracks, Dr. Ziegler tried to casually lower her hand, bring it to her side before answering, “Tired. I was up all night.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>No…’I can’t believe you’re alive, jack!?’” </em>Fareeha thought, curious as to how much the good doctor was in on what Fareeha had thought was a mind blowing discovery.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, glad to see you’re ok, doc.” Jack said.</p><p> </p><p>Trying not to make it seem too obvious, Fareeha shrugged to herself, just chalking it up to her being a child all of those years ago and some naivety. It seems that everyone, even outlaws, needed people to fall back on.</p><p> </p><p>With soft socked steps on the linoleum floor, Dr. Ziegler made her way to the stool opposite of him and sat down, setting her hands down on the table and said, “It’s good to see you too, Jack.”</p><hr/>
<hr/>
<hr/><p>The sun had fully risen over the horizon, but the last of the morning dew still hung in the grass, and with it, Jack Morrison was preparing to leave. Jacket on and duffel bag over his shoulder, he stood at the doorway. Fareeha waited beside him as he prepared to leave, finishing up with some final details before parting.</p><p> </p><p>“Stay here,” he said, “People may be looking for you and the doctor, but if you need to go out for something, Lena may be the safest person to send. Stick to cash, and try not to make yourself noticed.”</p><p> </p><p>“Aye.” She said, arms crossed on her chest as she leaned against the wall. Taking order from him like this reminded her of being a child, but this time, even if the job was simple, she wasn’t playing make-believe.</p><p> </p><p>“If you need any help with anything, the neighbor across the road is… he’s a friend. He already knows enough about what you’re doing here to not cause any trouble. I know this place is old, so chances are you may need to fix something. Farmers never throw anything away, so I would look around the barn first or the rest of the property for parts if anything breaks.” He stopped for a minute before adding, “I guess that’s something to thank the old man for.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Old man?”</em> Fareeha thought.</p><p> </p><p>“I better get going,” he finished, moving for the door and then adding, “I’ll be in touch soon.” He opened the door, beginning to head out, but then paused once more. He looked around outside, and then at the doorframe once again, and then said, “got a lot of memories of this place. I suppose they all weren’t bad.” Before finally leaving.</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha waited for a moment, and then made her way over to the window, watching as the man walked down the long driveway that cut through the empty farm fields, becoming smaller as he met the road and eventually disappeared from sight.</p><p> </p><p>It was strange to think, but Fareeha had always wanted something like this; to grow up and serve under Uncle Jack, Uncle Gabe, her mother and all of the other men and women of Overwatch. Times had surely changed, but it was odd how things seemed to have made one great circle.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I decided to add some things last minute because I thought this chapter lacked some... umph. I may go back and change some things if I find any problems.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey, I realized I forgot to add horizontal rules in the last chapter. I fixed it, so it should read better this time around since the different sections are defined better. Sorry about that.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Two Days later…</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>‘How does the smartest woman in the world hang her laundry?’ That was a question Fareeha had not expected to ponder before, but for as strange as it may have seemed, the answer was not nearly as interesting as she would have hope it would be; one clothespin at a time.</p><p> </p><p>Standing at the railing of the back porch, Fareeha leaned her weight against the barrier as she watched the mid-morning pass by. Lena had gone out for her morning run, which left her to watch their charge. It was still early in the year, the farmers in the area had not planted their crops yet, and the open soil uncrowded by growing plants allowed her to see for miles in every direction, but it also meant that the wind was absolutely ferocious when it came.</p><p> </p><p>Still, even with the cold morning, it was interesting to see how the doctor was taking to protective custody. Nothing brought out the true colors in people like being ordered to sit in one place and do absolutely nothing, and for Doctor Ziegler, nothing seemed to have said it more than what she was wearing at the time.</p><p> </p><p>The morning before, Fareeha had awoken to the smell of something cooking in the oven, and being that it wasn’t poptarts, premade waffles, or protein shakes, then it wasn’t Lena’s handiwork in the kitchen. Brain refusing to function until its demands for caffeine were answered, Fareeha sat at the table and waited until an egg timer went off.  Still not connecting the dots as to who was cooking when one of the three people here couldn’t cook and she had been sleeping earlier, she waited in a stupor until a rumbling came from the stairs leading into the basement in response to the alarm.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my, I hope they didn’t get burned!” cried a voice, and almost as if the stairway was a portal to some sort of 1940’s suburban American alternate universe, Doctor Angela Ziegler reached the door and was wearing a lavender farm dress.</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha rubbed her eyes, not comprehending what she saw, but couldn’t deny what it was as the doctor slipped oven mittens on and opened the appliance. Forgoing the duffel bag of sweatpants, t shirts, and underwear that was suspiciously the right size, Angela Ziegler, from the white apron to the buttoned cufflinks, petticoat to stuffed shoulder pads, had found herself an old-fashioned dress to wear.</p><p> </p><p>Fast forward to the next day, and Fareeha was silently nursing a cup of coffee while Angela sorted through a basket of clothes, hanging towels and extra bedsheets up on the clothesline before moving on to the next article in the basket. Wondering where the doctor had found the dress or why she was wearing it.</p><p> </p><p>There was a sonic pop, the telltale sign of a time distortion, and Lena appeared at her side, likewise leaning at the railing while watching their charge do chores. Fareeha took a glance at the shorter woman at her side and asked, “Did you have a nice run?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” She answered, her brow hardly sweating as she nudged the younger woman on the shoulder. “Enjoying the view?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Enjoying the…</em>” She thought. Turning back to the woman in the yard, who was humming a beat as she bent over, pulling a wet undershirt out of the basket and pinned it up on the line. “Wait,” the Egyptian woman said, turning back to the English pilot who had a smug grin on her face as her eyebrows did jumping jacks at the suggestion that was on her mind.</p><p> </p><p>Although the air was cold out, Fareeha’s face felt like it was burning as her brown cheeks became rosy red. Doctor Ziegler, done with her load, stood up with her basket in hand and wiped her forehead. She gave a sigh and then smiled, approaching the two who were content to watch as she worked, but Fareeha couldn’t bear to look her in the eye. The Egyptian woman diverted her attention to the ground, trying to hide her shame at the sly accusation of the woman beside her, but in retrospect, wished that she hadn’t. If she had just coped with the light tease from Lena, then the dull thud of someone collapsing on the ground wouldn’t have been her first warning that something was wrong. Unfortunately, as she was trying to count the blades of grass in the lawn before her, she did not see Dr. Ziegler’s eyes unfocus, lose her balance, stumble, and then collapse face first in the grass as the empty basket rolled away.</p><p> </p><p>Reacting first, Lena bound over the railing, pulling a gun hidden in a body holster around her waist as her time powers allowed her to zip to the doctor side and scan the area for hostiles. Fareeha jumped at the sight of the woman collapsed on the ground, and in a single motion, vaulted the railing and bounded to the Doctor’s side. When she reached her, she put both hands around her waist, lifted her over her shoulder, and ran inside while Lena retreated and provided overwatch.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah! What’s going on? Let me down!” the doctor cried.</p><p> </p><p>Inside, Fareeha crouched and swung her charge off of her shoulder, setting her down on the floor before checking the door. Lena was in the living room, checking out the windows to the front of the house before zapping back into the kitchen to take cover behind the sink.</p><p> </p><p>“Area’s clear.” Lena stated matter-of-factly, “No motion trackers were tripped, either.”</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha began to aggressively move and shove Angela around, checking for bleeding or signs of trauma on the doctor, saying “Stay calm, I’m just trying to see where you got hit.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine.” She retorted, slapping a hand away as Fareeha checked to see if there was any pooling blood on her back.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s alright,” Lena interjected, checking out the window to the backyard before diving back down once more, “You’re just in shock.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, its not that, I just- <em>nein!</em> Stop it!” she demanded, smacking the younger woman as she began to lift up the dress to check her lower body. “I’m alright.” She declared.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, what happened then, luv?” Lena asked, still peeking over the window to watch the back.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I just felt a little lightheaded and lost my balance. That’s all.” She said.</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha, satisfied that she hadn’t found any wounds at this point, slowly began to relax, asking, “Are you sure?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” She answered, slowly rising to a stand and causing the other two women to lower their guard. “I’m sorry, but I just haven’t been resting very well.” She explained, “I thought I could get the laundry done but I suppose I overestimated myself.”</p><p> </p><p>“People who get a ‘little tired’ don’t collapse like that, luv.” Lena said, “are you sure you don’t need to lie down?”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” she said, “this is normal. I just need to take a seat for a moment and I’ll be back to work.” She then did as she had said and took a seat on the stool at the kitchen table, dusting off a few blades of grass that were hanging on her dress.</p><p> </p><p>The two other women gave each other a look before Fareeha asked, “If you’re not resting well, we can move you to a different room, if that would help.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry I alarmed you. But please, there’s no need to worry.” she answered, “I’ve been dealing with this for years. Believe me, I’m fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, how about a shower or a bath?” Lena suggested, “I can make you a night cap or give you a rub down if that would help.”</p><p> </p><p>The thought of what Lena’s ulterior motives may have been immediately stuck out in Fareeha and Angela’s mind, and the offers were swiftly declined. Fareeha waited for a moment and then asked, “If you’re suffering from insomnia, then I’m sure we could probably find you some medicine to help. Is there anything we should look for at the pharmacy?”</p><p> </p><p>The doctor smiled and shook her head, “Dear, I have patients who actually suffer from insomnia. Please, have faith that I’m alright.” The two protectors began to back off, but their concerns still persist. Seeing that she couldn’t placate them without giving them something, the thirty-seven year old surgeon to chuckle, slowly looking at the ground to prepare herself. “Well, if you really want to know, when I was a little girl, my parents used to drive around in circles if I couldn’t get to sleep.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>hmm, that was something.</em>” The Fareeha thought. It seemed like an odd thing for an adult woman to hang on to, but it was something. Fareeha said, “well, just stay inside and try to relax until you feel better. Alright?”</p><p> </p><p>Doctor Ziegler conceded that, promising to rest until it was time to get dinner ready, but finished by adding, “If you would like to help, the dryer doesn’t seem to be working. If you could fix it, then I wouldn’t have to hang the laundry outside.”</p><p> </p><p>Lena blurted out an excuse and then zipped away. Thinking about finding herself something to do, Fareeha set her gun back into its holster and asked where the offending dryer was.</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>As it had done before, the glass door in the front of the house swung on its piston, pushing the door away while the wire hooking the door to the frame forced it closed, fighting back and forth until the final stand of the compressed air before the door slammed shut with a jolting clap into the abused frame.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Maybe I should try to fix that, too</em>?” Fareeha asked herself, thinking about how the simple glass door almost shook the whole house on its own when someone walked through, but no matter. She already had a mission on her mind at this point. Between the house and the patch of trees that hid their VTOL was an old red barn. With a jacket over her shoulders, Fareeha made her way towards the barn after hopping down the porch to the house.</p><p> </p><p>Having inspected the dryer, she had agreed with what the doctor had said earlier in that it was broken. Although it spun well enough on its own, it didn’t seem to bring in any warm air to dry the laundry. Even if not for the fact that calling a repair man was out of the question, just by looking at the old appliance, Fareeha could tell that it was several generations out of date. But, while it may have meant that there was no warranty for its service, it also hinted at something that may have made it easier to repair.</p><p> </p><p>It had only been two days of hiding out at the old farmhouse, but the idleness was starting to get to her. People can only pretend to be normal while doing nothing for only so long until they become irritable, and like Dr. Ziegler, the only cure for idle hands was good work. It felt good for Fareeha to put her mind on a mission and focus her energy towards something, and if it helped her charge, then that was even better.</p><p> </p><p>Like the house near it, the barn was also quite old. Although its paint actually looked newer, it seemed that this was nothing but the stereotypical red barn with white accents on its support pieces. Fareeha approached the large double doors and gave them a tug, noticing that they were shut with a wrapped chain, but no lock. She undid the metal binding and then cracked the door open, sliding inside before shutting it behind her.</p><p> </p><p>Upon entry, Fareeha pulled out a flashlight from her pocket. As expected, the inside of the structure was dark, but there was some light coming in through cracks and holes in the wooden walls. Still, judging from the line leading to the house outside, it was safe to assume that there was electricity out here. After looking around for a moment, she found a light switch, and with a flick of her fingers, old florescent light bulbs began to illuminate the shed.</p><p> </p><p>Before he had left, Jack Morrison had told her that “Farmers never throw anything away.” And while she had counted on that to be true, she wasn’t really prepared for the gravity of what it meant. As soon as light chased away the darkness of the room, Fareeha had to dial back her focus to comprehend all of the <em>stuff</em> that was before her. 55 gallon drums, both steel and plastic, were grouped together in a corner by the door. Two lawnmowers –one with its engine partially disassembled- were pushed against the wall while a pushmower was hanging on the wall by bolts. Hoes, spades, a posthole digger, about seven different shovels and an assortment of other gardening tools in both fine condition and in need of repair were piled up in buckets and trash barrels. An old refrigerator covered in rust and all sorts of stains was plugged into the wall on one end, and cans upon cans of paint and what she had assumed to be oil and other engine fluids in secondary containers completely covered every layer of a 5 level storage rack. Ropes, chains and water hoses were coiled up like snakes all over the building, hanging from the ceiling and all over the floor.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Most of the clutter could have been fine as just undefined junk off in the corners of the room, but they were dwarfed by the farm equipment that occupied most of the other space in the barn. Some she could see, like part of the bladed combine in front of the gigantic mess, but most of the others were covered in sheets and tarps like hastily made blue, red, and brown Halloween ghosts.</p><p> </p><p>The sight of it all was daunting at first, but as she had thought before, it was also a good sign. Fareeha closed her eyes, clearing her thoughts, and then opened them again, taking in the sight but without the overwhelming first impression from before.  She looked up, seeing the lights hanging from the ceiling in the barn, and then noticed a smaller lamp hanging closer to the floor, and beneath it looked to be a workbench. That, she decided, was where she would start.</p><p> </p><p>Sidestepping all of the clutter, she made her way towards the area, and was correct in her assumption. From the wrenches hanging from pegs, screwdrivers scattered in a banged-up tool box, a vise and all sort of hardware hidden within the cabinets and drawers of the work space, she was confident that she had all of the tools needed to fix the problem at hand.</p><p> </p><p>The Omnic Crisis from 30 years ago had an unforeseen consequence to the world of manufacturing. Due to increased demands for equipment in the global conflict, manufacturers of goods were forced to standardize the components of their products, meaning that the Ford Motor Company could use its inventory of sparkplugs intended for their F-2000 Superduty trucks in the engines of the M2 Mathis Main Battle Tank. That same philosophy applied to her situation as well. From sticking her head inside of the dryer, Fareeha had deduced that it may have had a burned out fuse, and judging from the treasure trove of old machinery and appliances she had found, she was bound to find the right part somewhere in here.</p><p> </p><p>Although not as much of a mess as the rest of the barn, the workbench was still cluttered, but after a moment to take it all in, she began to recognize something. In the center of the work mat was an engine. She saw what it was, a four cylinder piston engine on opposite ends of a crank shaft, but for some reason her mind was failing to justify what she was seeing. Deciding to approach it, she gave it a look over before realizing, “<em>That’s an engine for a Cessna 150. Been a while since I’ve seen one of those. I wonder what that’s doing here</em>?”</p><p> </p><hr/>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>With the sacrifice of an old dishwasher, Fareeha triumphantly exited the barn with her head held high and a fuse in her hand. She closed the door behind her and made her way towards the farmhouse.  The sun was now high in the sky, which made her wonder how long she had spent in the barn, but no matter. Sure, she would need to check it first to make sure that it would fit, but she didn’t mind. Her thoughts were really on Dr. Ziegler, hopefully once she got the dryer working, the doctor could take a relief from some of the chores that she had taken upon herself. Fareeha knew that it wasn’t much, it was just some dumb dryer, but maybe just the fact that someone would go out of their way to do that for her would be what mattered.</p><p> </p><p>But then that made her circle back to her real problem. Sure, making less work for the doctor would probably help her relax, but that was only part of the issue at hand. It had been over two days since they started hiding out here, and if what she had been saying was true, then there was more to the issue that just feeling restless. People don’t collapse after feeling light headed like that, there had to be something more behind the incident. Sure, maybe she was having a bout of Post-Traumatic Stress, from nearly being killed earlier in the week. If that was the issue, then she needed to find a way to convince the doctor that she was safe here, but something about that didn’t make sense. She had been a member of Overwatch during some of the most horrific fighting of the Omnic Crisis, sure the shot could have triggered some repressed fears, but having a restless night or two shouldn’t cause this much of a reaction.</p><p> </p><p> It made her think back to the conversation that she had between Lena and her. About going on rides with her parents to get to sleep. It seemed like such an easy thing to do, yet they were missing such a simple means to do so; a car. Besides the fact that trying to go out and rent a vehicle to do so was out of the question, it almost made Fareeha think that she was lying about it; like there was more to her story than just that. But, then again, maybe she was telling the truth. Maybe she was shaken up by the whole ordeal a few days ago and the thoughts of driving around at night was the only thing she could think of to calm herself. It was poetic in a way, the idea that something so simple could console someone and make them feel safe, regardless of their age.</p><p> </p><p>She reached the front porch of the old house and jogged up the stairs. By now, the laundry was probably done. Although she would have liked to try to install the replacement fuse right now, it probably would be best to get the clothes and linen off the line first. Angela would probably appreciate the hand, and it wasn’t like there was much else to do around here. She opened the slamming door to the house and was about to call out that she was coming in, but stopped at what she saw.</p><p> </p><p>Dr. Ziegler was sitting on the couch, hair tied back in a high ponytail like she always had. Still wearing her lavender dress, she sat on the far seat of the sofa with her eyes down, reading an old paperback book that she held open in her lap. Her legs were crossed, propping the book up for easier reading, and as Fareeha had opened the door, she had just raised a hand to rub her eye. Fareeha froze where she stood, not wanting to disturb the tranquil moment. The blonde woman gave a sigh, placing her finger in the page and then turned the book over, closing it and keeping her spot.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Seriously, where did she find that dress?</em>” Fareeha asked herself. As she was, it almost looked like she was the Lady of a Manor or something like that. It was just a dress, but it looked so natural and elegant on her, Fareeha was finding it harder and harder to believe that this woman had seen more combat in her life than she had, that she had stood by and followed her mother and people that she had idolized into battle in some of the most dangerous fights of the last century.</p><p> </p><p>Page kept, Doctor Ziegler’s eyes began to flutter, making heavy blinks as her neck began to lean more and more into the sofa as her head fell into the comfort of its cushion. Just from watching across the room, Fareeha saw as her eyes began to droop, eyelids becoming heavier as they slowly began to close.</p><p> </p><p><em>“Was this it</em>?” she thought. <em>“Was this all she needed? Mission accomplished?”</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>As if she was answering her question, once Dr. Ziegler reached a comfortable position, she took a deep breath, and then let out all the air in her chest, slowly beginning a rhythmic breathing pattern as she lay there. Fareeha couldn’t believe it. She didn’t even want to move and risk the chance of waking he-</p><p> </p><p>“IN LLAMA LAND THERE’S A ONE MAN BAND AND HE’LL TOOT HIS FLUTE FOR YOU!”</p><p> </p><p>Both Angela and Fareeha jumped in their skin at the sudden booming voice coming from inside the house. Dr. Ziegler quickly got to her feet, marching towards the staircase leading to the upstairs bedrooms. Before she could get too close, the unmistakable sound of Lena’s voice found its way through the sudden blast of sound. “I can’t believe I got this old thing to work!” she cried.</p><p> </p><p>Dr. Ziegler, shouting to overcome the booming voice and overwhelming orchestra, cried out, “Lena! Turn it down or you’ll wake the dea-” But before she could finish, Lena zipped down the stairs in a blur of blue light, carrying an old record player and setting it down on the couch while plugged into the nearby wall. Before Angela could react, Lena zipped by once more and was now face-to-face with her, hands wrapped together and bouncing back and forth as she cried out, “Come on! I can’t listen to Frank without dancing, luv!”</p><p> </p><p>Not consenting to the rude awakening, Angela was powerless as the smaller woman with a giant smile wrapped an arm around her hip and held her other hand outstretched and swung her around, hips gyrating to the tune of the orchestra as the saxes, trumpets and trombone played their notes.</p><p> </p><p>Still unnoticed outside the room, Fareeha stood there as she watched it, almost like something was compelling her to wait and observe the scene. As she witnessed the battery of the person she was supposed to protect, Fareeha’s mind began to connect dots together and link the seemingly random events of the day together, forming an idea, but not coming to a conclusion yet.</p><p> </p><p>“IT IS PERFECT FOR A FLYING HONEY MOON, THEY SAY;” the song went, and with that, Lena released her captive, letting go of her hip and letting her whiplash out past the English woman’s extended arm, spinning as she did. Lena then disappear and reappeared once more in her path, catching her and letting her take a dip, using her close hand to lift her leg up while leaning with her body supporting the doctor while her face met with her chest, and in that moment the song sang out, “COME FLY WITH ME, WE’LL FLY, WE’LL FLY AWAY!”</p><p> </p><p>It was in that moment that everything clicked. Fareeha knew what she had to do. She slipped the fuse into her jacket’s front pockets and moved into the living room to turn the volume down on the music box. She would definitely help rescue the doctor from Lena’s clutches for now, but the dryer was going to have to stay broken for a little while longer.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sorry it took so long to get this chapter out. I wanted to make sure it was ready. I put a lot of extra effort into this, and there was a lot to go over, so I hope you all enjoy it.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>That night…</em>
</p><p> </p><p>There were some telltale signs to how late it had been, the natural feeling of time passing, the aches of standing in one place for too long, the moving shadows of tiny rays of light peeking through cracks in the boards and windows in the barn, and the growl of her stomach as the day progressed. But it wasn’t until Fareeha decided it was time to go in and check up on how things were going that she realized how badly she had lost track of time.</p><p> </p><p>With her jacket back on, Fareeha opened the door to the barn, and was surprised to see that it was dark out already. It was amazing how quickly time passed when she had something to occupy her mind. Even with military training and discipline, she had almost forgotten about the world outside the barn.</p><p> </p><p>Being that she was working inside, her natural night vision was acting up, but what surprised her was that it didn’t really matter, for the stars and moon were shining brightly tonight. She took a moment to marvel at how much the lights from millions of lightyears away illuminated the landscape, being able to see some of the other homes and roads across the flat farmland. No wonder nights like tonight were called Harvest Moons. It reminded her of her time doing survival training out in the desert as a Helix cadet. The day may have been unrelenting underneath the sun, but when the stars came out, it was almost like she was standing beneath a painted ceiling, seeing the cosmos above and easily recognizing some of the constellations above.  </p><p> </p><p>After taking a moment to breathe in the clean rural air, she turned and made her way towards the farmhouse. At this hour, it would have been smart to turn her flashlight on to see where she was going, but she was confident she would be alright. Still a hundred paces from the house, she saw that the overhead lights in the living room and entryway were off, and the inside lamps were on instead, making her think that everyone inside had already gone off to bed. Although it may have seemed that way, as she approached the house, she saw that it was not the case.</p><p> </p><p>Disguised in the dark at first, Dr. Ziegler was waiting on the porch by the door, the flame of an old oil lantern was illuminating the deck beside her as she sat in an old and battered rocking chair. Fareeha approached, not addressing the doctor, but casually walking up until she was standing at the lattice board covering the face of the porch. Although she hoped that she had finally found rest, Angela Ziegler was still fully awake. The doctor was wearing her dress and apron, but now had a blanket on her lap as she sat in the chair, slowly rocking as she watched the night. Her hair was still done up in the way that she always had prepared it, with her bangs parted to the right while the rest was in a high pony tail on the back of her head, but unlike before, the lack of hairspray made it less sharp and gave it a more natural lay.</p><p> </p><p>Standing three feet below the woman, Fareeha was confident that she was underneath her field of view, and although she couldn’t see it for sure, it looked like she may have been holding something in her hand. The doctor seemed content in the moment, and not wanting to startle her, Fareeha let her be.</p><p> </p><p>The stars were so bright on this night that Fareeha felt that she could see them reflecting in the blue of the doctor’s eyes. Yet, as she looked upon Dr. Ziegler, she saw something that she recognized, but was a strange revision of what she had become familiar with. The Thousand Yard Stare, the blank look of men that had seen too much, the way their souls tried to block the outside world from scarring them anymore. When she looked into the doctor’s eyes, she saw a piece of that, and she couldn’t blame her after all that she must have gone through already. Yet, there was something different about it, something that didn’t make her pity the doctor. Instead of her soul trying to shut what she saw out, the look in her eye was different. The glimmer in her eye was a burning hunger, the desire to see, to explore, to understand. This woman had revolutionized the medical world almost completely on her own, when she considered what the doctor had done before she had even turned twenty years old, Fareeha felt like a peabrain by comparison. So with that in mind, it made her wonder what Dr. Ziegler saw when she looked out at the night sky. Was it just the stars? The planets? The Moon? Or was it enigmas, puzzles for her mind to decipher and understand? A vast ocean of knowledge and discovery that was hiding just below the dark depths of her vision. Fareeha saw the power in her eyes, and felt that if they were to land on her, that it may dissect her, take her apart piece by piece to see what made her tick. Not out of malevolence or benevolence, but out of the wanting to know.</p><p> </p><p>“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the doctor shifted her gaze downward, putting Fareeha into the spotlight.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, it is.” She answered.</p><p> </p><p>“You missed dinner.” She said, “I set a portion aside for you in the refrigerator, you must be hungry. Lena was feeling tired, and you were out doing… whatever you are up to in the barn, so I thought I would leave a light out here for when you decided to come in.” She took a deep breath and gave out a sigh, looking back out on the night sky once more, “I’m always so busy that I hardly get the chance to look up at the sky at night, anymore. When I do, the lights are so bright in the city that you hardly see anything. It’s just so peaceful out here.”</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha’s eyes shifted to the oil lamp lying on the ground beside the rocking chair, thinking, “<em>Seriously, where does she keep finding all this stuff?</em>” Her eyes went back to the doctor when she realized what she had said about Lena. “Did you say that Lena was sleeping already?” Angela confirmed, and Fareeha scowled, saying that Lena was supposed to be on night watch tonight.</p><p> </p><p>Dr. Ziegler nodded and said, “I understand your frustrations, but please, Lena has gone enough for one person, already. Let her rest and we will all be fine.”</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha agreed, but that brought back the looming problem that was on her mind. “How are you feeling, Dr. Ziegler?” she asked.</p><p> </p><p>The doctor slowly stopped rocking in her chair, closed her eyes before a small smile began to form on her lips. When she opened them, she looked down upon her protector once more and said, “Fareeha, please. I think we’ve known each other long enough that you can just call me Angela.”</p><p> </p><p>It may have just been the cold of the night, but Fareeha felt her cheeks get a little red at the request. Dr. Ziegler…. Angela… was right. The soldier that had been forged within her wanted to keep things formal, but the part of her that was still human was bringing back the memories of her childhood. It was shameful to admit, but she had hated Angela when she was a child. It was a silly, stupid and pointless childhood grudge, one that she had forgotten about after years of separation, but the memories still embarrassed her.</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha was the Base Brat, the daughter of Captain Amari, Overwatch’s second in command, and she loved it. The cherished memories of being on the base with all of the grown ups was definitely what set her on a course to become a soldier when she became an adult, and Angela was the black stain on all of that. She wasn’t mean to her, or rude, or hurt her feelings, but she always seemed to ruin the fun when she was around. The doctor was always obsessed with being “safe” rather than having fun. Even the men would act completely different when she was around, and at the time, Fareeha hated it.</p><p> </p><p>Of course, as she grew up she began to understand <em>why</em> the men acted the way they did around her, and also accepted that the concern for her wellbeing was genuine, but really, it wasn’t until she was here in this moment, standing only a few feet apart on some small farm in Indiana that it all came into perspective.</p><p> </p><p>Even now, as she wore this motherly farm dress, stood at the top of her field in Medical Science, and possessed a ferocious maternal instinct, and world of difference between the two, Angela Ziegler was only about –If Fareeha recalled correctly- seven years older than she was. Even if it was difficult to look past the Nightingale-esque conviction that she had, Angela was beautiful. Now, reverse her back to age nineteen, being surrounded by handpicked specialists to take part in the war against the Omnics? Fareeha just regretted not being able to understand the power she had over people. Fareeha would have appreciated her more and understood why Angela did the things that she did, why it seemed like she was looking after her as a child. She would have appreciated it more as the Swiss doctor stood at her side and held her hand tightly as her mother’s empty coffin was lowered into the ground. Even without carrying a gun, Fareeha learned to respect all that Angela had done, not just for her, but for all of them.</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha gave a chuckle, it wasn’t until she had enlisted and went through training when the things that she didn’t understand from her childhood came back and finally made sense. In a way, she really should have thanked Angela for preparing her for the experience of being surrounded by men who lived like today was their last day. The pickup lines, the advances, the rowdy shop talk, it was like the answer to a decade’s old riddle. She recognized the baravado, and didn’t take it personally. The men could joke and play with each other about how much they wanted to be <em>in</em> her or have her scream their names. But in reality, the whole act was just a cover for how chicken-shit terrified they were of the pretty medic. For in reality, <em>they</em> would be the ones screaming her name, and <em>she</em> would be the one inside of them; it wasn’t a matter of if, but when.</p><p> </p><p>“So… how are you feeling, Angela? Have you been able to rest yet?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, not yet, dear. I just have… too much on my mind.” She answered, still looking out at the night sky.</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha frowned, “well, you should try to relax while you can. There’s nothing to worry about, you’re safe here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fareeha, I’m a woman. Worrying is one of the things I do best.”</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha nodded at the sentiment, smiling for a moment before asking, “well, then what’s on your mind?”</p><p> </p><p>“Too many things.” She said, “too many things to think of, too many to keep up with.” She raised her hand up, showing a small notebook and pen in her lap, “I’ve had to start writing them down to keep track of them all. I think that if we were able to make each day a few hours longer, then I may be able to get through most of them.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you usually write down?” Fareeha asked. She knew that Angela would probably answer with a bunch of science mumbo-jumbo, but she felt that maybe letting a little bit of her thoughts out would help settle them down.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, all sorts of things,” she said. From there, she began to list off the types of things that fareeha had expected, Protein fold patterns, possible solutions for her medicine to be usable on synthetics, production innovations, enzymes and how they may increase the rate of healing is specific organs, but as soon as she started, she began to list off seemingly random things, like Baked Alaska, hairstyles she wanted to try, alternative designs for her Valkyrie suit, quilt patterns to make, but the thing that made Fareeha interrupt the list was “book ideas.”</p><p> </p><p>“Book ideas?” she asked, “I didn’t know you wrote.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” she answered, setting her notepad down, “I’ve written two books in a series, already.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really? Which one?” Fareeha asked. After Overwatch had dissolved, reading books and news articles of the organization was one of few things she had to keep up with her old family. Through good and bad, some of the stories she read made her feel like she was there with them, fighting alongside the heroes she had grown up with. Angela probably had a wealth of history to share, it only surprised Fareeha that she hadn’t heard of her writing of her experiences before.</p><p> </p><p>“To be fair, it was a group effort, but I had an idea when I was trying to explain how care worked to children. It’s amazing how frightened they can be by things they don’t understand. Have you ever heard of ‘Dr. Daisy Dachshund’, by Dr. Angelo Brickman?”</p><p> </p><p>Catching her off guard, Fareeha thought about it for a moment, and she did recognize the name from one of her first official operations with Helix. Newbie soldiers and cadets for Helix Securities often cut their teeth on relief work, delivering aid to people in need around the world. As she thought of it, she remembered carrying a cardboard box of children’s books at a camp somewhere in Africa. It was a cartoony ‘hotdog’ dogs that wore a stethoscope around its neck and talked about hospitals or something like that.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” She finally answered, confused at the question, but then had to add, “But the author had his picture on the back of the book, he was a fat Cuban guy.”</p><p> </p><p>Angela smiled at the statement, adding, “He was the illustrator. We made an agreement on it because I didn’t want to go on a book tour and also because interviews make me nervous.”</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha laughed, shaking her head as Angela beamed at one of her accomplishments. As she did, the dark skinned woman felt a pulse begin on her left arm, the ghost of a pain caused by conflicting memories in her minds. She became quiet at the sensation, and then remembered the promise she had made to herself.</p><p> </p><p>She reached her right arm over and squeezed the spot on her left where the ache was and waited for it to go away, and then said, “When I did my first deployment with the Raptora unit for Helix, I was hit on my left arm, right above the elbow. I thought that it was going to be all over for me, but from what I heard, the medivac took me to the nearest aide post, which happened to be a relief center you happened to be volunteering at. The tag said that you were the one who operated on me.” She paused for a moment, thinking of what to say, but couldn’t conjure anything besides the truth from her heart, “I always wanted to thank you for saving my life.”</p><p> </p><p>The memory of the incident still hurt. Once every few months, she would wake up in a cold sweat, having relived that day in her nightmares. She hadn’t just been “hit”, an armor piercing round had completely severed her left arm above the joint. She felt like her mind had left her body after watching one of her limbs fall uselessly to the ground fifty meters below her. Soon afterwards, there was a three day gap in her memory. But when she became lucid again, she found herself in a medical facility in a whole different country with her left arm in a cast. After hours of mindlessly at the ceiling, she tried to move, and found surgery bracelet with her name and an “A. Ziegler” was on her wrist. Her mind was in a fog for a while after that, but it wasn’t until she overheard some men talking about “that doc with huge tits” and the name on the tag that made her connect a few dots in her mind. She thought on it throughout rehab, and when she was cleared for duty, she pursued the lead herself, and sure enough she was right. She wanted- no, needed- to thank her for that.</p><p> </p><p>Dr. Ziegler closed her eyes, smile slowly fading as she let out a long sigh. When she opened them, she looked… tired. “I understand that it meant very much to you,” she said, “but dear, there’s no need to thank me. I would have done that for anyone.”</p><p> </p><p>It was like watching a fashion model rub off her painted smile and be let her true self show. She must have experienced this situation thousands of time before, but now could be drop the act as if she were a prim and proper lady finding someone to confide.  With that simple and humble acceptance of thanks, Fareeha began to see the doctor’s condition a bit more. Like professionals needing competition in order to function in life, the things she had experienced, the busy days, the sleepless nights, it was like an addiction, a routine of sorts. But for her, it wasn’t as simple as needing to hear screaming fans or a high pulse in her veins. She had chosen a path of perpetual torment, paved with misery and suffering, one that she walked if only to bring the brightness of her smile and pure heart to the darkness of the world. Maybe she didn’t want to rest, maybe when she closed her eyes, she heard the scream of people needing help, and maybe moving forward was the only means to silence those screams.</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha nodded, but decided to change the subject, “well, I’m glad to see you’re settling in well, because I was afraid it would feel like I was trapping you here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry.” She said, “I am actually enjoying myself.” She rocked back in her chair once more, taking a bite out of something in the dark and then added, “I always thought that happiness would look something like this. But, I had hoped that the chocolate would be better.”</p><p> </p><p>Reflexively, Fareeha said, “If there’s something that you need, I’m sure that we can get it for you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry,” she smiled, “Lena had to search high and low, but she did find me a Toblerone. Here, I still have the ‘rone’ left.” She snapped a piece off, and underhand threw it to Fareeha, who caught it in the air. It could have been her genetics, but Fareeha was never really a big fan of dairy, and included in that was chocolate. But, feeling the dark triangle in her fingers, it wouldn’t hurt to try if it meant calming her charge.</p><p> </p><p>She had never seen candy come in a triangle like that, so she didn’t really know what to expect when the glossy shape hit her tongue. As expected, the first hint of flavor was the coca across her palate, which would have made her gag if not for the sudden rush of its smooth buttery flavor. She chewed, her teeth crunching on finely chopped nuts, and revealing a surprising sweet honey glaze hidden beneath it all.</p><p> </p><p>“Good?” Angela asked.</p><p> </p><p>“yeah.” She admitted.</p><p> “This reminds me of when I was a girl.” She said, “After I lost my parents, I spent most of my adolescence in a boarding school. I always remember being up all night studying, advancing further and further into my academics with each day, but there was one memory that always takes me back.” She looked over at her protector and asked, “Have you ever heard of ‘Post Occupation Parisian Expressionism?”</p><p> </p><p>Immediately, Fareeha, answered, “No.”</p><p> </p><p>“Good.” She laughed, “It was positively dreadful. It was literature written by aristocratic women after the German occupation of France during the Second World War. It was a part of the curriculum at school, and the stories entailed the sexual oppression of the French women after their men surrendered and then were oppressed by the strict tradionalism of the Nazi’s rule. Then, after their emancipation, they displayed their sexual liberation from the duality of the patriarch in their society by copulating with the American GI’s who were practically portrayed as animals.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sounds boring.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t even know the half of it. Now, you must understand, I was hardly twelve years old at the time and was going to have to read this! Luckily, my prof decided that it wasn’t the best idea to give a prepubescent girl a quasi-erotic novel from almost a century ago, so she decided to change the reading list for my sake.”</p><p> </p><p>“What did it change to?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, the name eludes me now, but I remember it all the same. It was from the same time frame, but not nearly as prominent as the other ones. It was less about sexually repressed women celebrating the liberation of their loins and more a story of love. A budding romance of a young French girl and an American Private, hundreds of miles away from home, risking his life to save someone who he had never met. It was just that… he and the men like him, they loved their homes so much that they were willing to die in a place where they didn’t belong to protect it. Then, as soon as their love begins to bloom, he goes off to fight once more, leaving her to wonder if they’ll see each other again. I suppose that, in my mind, I always assumed that he lived in a place like this. It was just so… so….”</p><p> </p><p> The doctor was lost for words, but Fareeha slowly began to nod her head, saying. “It was Jack, wasn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>Angela stopped, but after a moment she nodded, “we may be able to look back now and think of it with hindsight, but there were times during the Omnic Crisis that we didn’t know if we would survive the war. My parents were murdered in the first years of the conflict, and then seven years later, there  I was; seventeen years old and fresh out of medical school with opportunities around the world to do whatever I wish, but then I met Jack Morrison one day and he convinced me to join Overwatch. You must understand, dear. Switzerland was neutral in the conflict, all around us we heard of death and destruction, and we were just waiting to see if we would be next, but Jack…. He had conviction, hope, he convinced me that there was something to fight for. Now, the war is over, he finds ways to pop in and out of my life, but I’m left wondering if he’ll ever return.”</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha was silent for a moment, letting Angela recuperate from her confession. Fareeha understood that Angela may always think of her as a little girl, but the truth was that she understood the sentiment more than she knew. Fareeha had no idea that when she said goodbye before her mother went to “work” that it would be the last time they would see each other. In the times that they both lived, goodbyes meant much more when you may not get the opportunity to say hello again. Dr. Ziegler may have been at the top of her field and made revolutionary discoveries in her lifetime, but even if it seemed that she had everything, the only thing she felt was loss. Yet, with that being said, even if Angela hadn’t carried a weapon like Fareeha has, she understood her desire. After all, it was the dream that every soldier carried with them on the battlefield; to return home… Even if they don’t know where home was.</p><p> </p><p>At that point, Fareeha declared that it was time to head in, so after picking up her lantern, Angela snuffed out the flame and head inside. Walking the door in so that it didn’t slam, Fareeha followed Angela to the kitchen, taking the wrapped dish out of the refrigerator.  She set it in the oven, and then turned and wished the doctor good night.</p><p> </p><p>The doctor returned the gesture in kind, but before she walked into the basement, said, “The Omnic Crisis may be over, but the world is still on fire, Fareeha. We’re all burning.”</p><p> </p><p>Time passed, and as Fareeha removed the food from the oven, she decided to check on her charge in the basement. She had hoped the she would find her asleep, but instead, she found the doctor laying atop the bed, eyes wide open as she held the notebook to her chest. Her dress was hanging from a wire hanger on the rafters, illuminated by an egress window outside.</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha gave a sigh, thinking of the doctor’s parting words, and added, “Yeah, but some are burning more than others.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>The next day…</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha was on the floor of the living room in the farmhouse, elbows locked at a sharp 90’ degrees, and hands balled into fists. Her body was as stiff as a board, wearing a tanktop and shorts as she remained motionless in the inclined position. Everyone had their morning routine, Lena ran, Angela prepared herself for the day, and being that she was still a soldier, Fareeha kept up a reduced regiment of PT in her mornings. About half way through the time for her plank, Fareeha was in bliss, her body tingling and muscles shaking with strength as they struggled to keep a simple position held against her own weight and that of Earth’s gravity.</p><p> </p><p>Granted, if she had a PT instructor here, her mind would be focused on putting her all into the strength training, but being that things were much more relaxed now, she let her mind wander while her body worked.</p><p> </p><p>All of her plan was slowly coming together. Sure, there were still some elements to be tested before she could consider them done, but there was only one major obstacle left to overcome. But, thinking of what Jack had told her at the beginning of this duty, she had an idea of how to solve the problem. She had a feeling that it would work, and if not, then that would mean she had shaved her legs for nothing.</p><p> </p><p>Mid thought, her body buckled as a massive weight was leveled across her shoulders. She jumped at the disturbance, but her compromised position as well as the force that was now on her almost pinned her in her current position.</p><p> </p><p>Lena, after apparently ending her morning run, or seeing her as she entered the room, or having had enough with simple voyeurism, had decided to take part in the morning routine and was now sitting, cross legged, on Fareeha’s back. If she had been trying to surpass a personal record or been exhausted by previous exercises, she would have collapsed under the weight of an extra person. But, being that training for the Raptora armor included having to function without the armor’s enhanced strength, the addition of the small English woman only caused a few extra twitches across her core.</p><p> </p><p>“C-Can I help you?” she asked, straining against the weight.</p><p> </p><p>“Let me think about that.” Lena responded, sassily settling in as she lounged like royalty on the younger woman.</p><p> </p><p>Annoyed from the interruption, Fareeha fought to fortify her strength, trying to refocus, but her mind returned to Lena and something she wanted to bring up to her. Partially holding her breath to not deflate her core, Fareeha said, “I wanted to. Talk to you. Your… shift.” But, failing to multitask, Fareeha fell. As she did, Lena zipped off of her, appearing on the couch before Fareeha touched the ground.</p><p> </p><p>“What of it?”</p><p> </p><p>Taking a second to recuperate, Fareeha rolled off her front and reoriented herself on her bottom, sitting on the floor and using the foot of the armchair to support her as she sat.  When ready, she looked at Lena and said, “You missed your shift last night. I caught Angela out on the porch, too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, sorry, Luv. I was going to nap up but got carried away. No harm no foul, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose so. But Angela has me worried. Apparently, she hasn’t slept since we got here. I’m afraid it will only get worse if we don’t do something about it.”</p><p> </p><p>Lena grimaced. “Have you caught her fainting since that one time?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I haven’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“Has she been acting strange, otherwise?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, but then again you probably would know her better than I do.”</p><p> </p><p>Lena frowned, looking off to the side, checking the entrances to make sure that she wasn’t nearby, before she thought of what to say. “Listen, luv. I see that you’re concerned, believe me, it’s sweet, but you need to understand something. Angela is… well, she’s not like the rest of us. You were probably too young to remember it all, but the Crisis changed some people, and let others become who they truly are. The doc, well… she’s always been like this. A normal person has a… a happy place, you know? Like for you it might be a beach on a deserted island or having busty, blonde, amazons rub your toes with mayonnaise? Well, Doctor Ziegler doesn’t really have one. It’s been ten years since the organization dissolved, but its never really ended for her. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a good person, and she’d patch you up without hesitation, but she’s also the type that would rip you open with a smile on her face while humming <em>London Bridge</em>. I get that you’re worried. But trust me, she’ll be fine.”</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha considered what Lena had to say, she had known Angela a lot longer than she had, but still, it didn’t feel like the doctor was ok. She then remembered when they first discovered Dr. Ziegler’s malady and asked, “Wait, didn’t you offer to give her a massage to fix her issue?”</p><p> </p><p>In response, Lena flipped a coy smile and put her hands up, admitting, “Angela, undressed, face down, with me and baby oil? Don’t threaten me with a good time, luv.”</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha thought on that for a moment, spending a little too much time on the imagery, but understood it none the less. When she was done, she thanked Lena for the talk and decided to move on to the next thing she had to do today.</p><p> </p><hr/>
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<hr/><p>Fareeha checked the house, she looked in the kitchen, checked the bathroom, and scanned the back yard, but could not find Dr. Ziegler in her normal spots. It wasn’t until she decided to check if she had wandered to the barn or the hidden VTOL that she found Angela in the front yard. Fareeha was surprised to see that she was not preparing meals or doing her normal chores at this time, but what really caught her attention was that she wasn’t in her farm dress. Instead of the layered garment and apron, what the doctor had decided to wear today was a pair of jean overalls, tightened with an old belt at her waist to suck them to her form and a white T-shirt on top. Her hair looked as it always did, tied back with her blonde bags down, but today, a line of bobby pins kept her hairs tight to her scalp and free from her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Hopping to a stop, Fareeha looked over at the doctor to see what she was doing. The house that they were staying at had a perimeter lining of mulch between the residence and its only slightly kept-up lawn. Like a crack in a sidewalk, it was something that Fareeha saw before, but had not necessarily put to memory, not seeing the importance of the detail. Yet, as she had stomped by it numerous times before, it seemed that the third person hiding out at this house saw something different. With leather gloves, big boots, and a spade, Angela Ziegler was down on the ground, pulling away weeds that stuck through the wooden chips while also digging small holes, of which she filled with plants that she was taking from a black plastic tray.</p><p> </p><p>With a watering can in hand, she welcomed a bright red flower to its new home with a big drink of water. She then stopped as she heard Fareeha descend from the porch and stop.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Seriously,</em>” she thought, “<em>Where the hell does she keep finding this stuff?</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Angela set down her watering can and then put her hands in her lap before asking, “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” she answered, not really putting any effort into her answer, but then reversed it on her charge.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I was up all night thinking about what was missing here, and decided that some nice flowers would make it feel more homely. Don’t you agree?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” She said again, “what are you going to plant?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I don’t have much,” she said, taking her gloves off before pointing at some of the plants around her, “but I managed to get my hands on some geraniums, marigolds, and tulips.” She then smiled, fluttering her eyes and asked, “would you like to join me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, no…” she began, thinking of what she had planned on today, but as she did, she found herself mentally tripping over what she wanted to ask. She stuttered for a moment, before finally saying, “But, Um… I need your help with something. There’s something I need to borrow.”</p><p> </p><p>Confused, Angela’s head tilted as she adopted a quizzical look. “Oh, and what’s that?”</p><p> </p><hr/>
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<hr/><p>Fareeha never really liked makeup. Sure, she wasn’t against putting some lotion on or doing a little bit of work to smooth out the edges. After all, what girl wasn’t? But as she was now, she felt like she had donned a clown’s face.</p><p> </p><p>Wearing Angela’s dress, it was kind of shocking to feel how warm it all was. Walking around the empty farm fields always made the hairs on her limbs stand on edge as the wind whipped across the open ground, but now, it was almost like she was wearing three layers of spring jackets at once. Dr. Ziegler was more than happy to help her get dressed for this favor, and although she did feel like it was a bit excessive, she had to admit that her handiwork was exceptional. </p><p> </p><p>Walking down the long driveway that lead to their hideout, Fareeha crossed the sparsely used road and then walked another two hundred yards south, before walking down another equally long driveway that cut through the brown earth and lead to another homestead. When their stay had begun, Jack had said that “the neighbor across the road was a friend”, and, if her plan was to work, then she would need their help.</p><p> </p><p>The driveway up to this house was, like theirs, gravel, and Fareeha was glad that she had decided to stick with her boots, knowing that they were reasonably hidden underneath her skirt. As she neared the house, it was apparent that it was much more active than theirs. It had the signs of a living home, but what really caught her eye was a truck by the front and a man standing by it on a cell phone.</p><p> </p><p>She kept approaching, and he, leaning against the doorway to the vehicle, kept talking, seeing her and waiting as she approached. Swallowing her pride, she smiled and waved, keeping herself reserved and hoping for that “farmer’s hospitality” that she had heard so much about.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, sorry, I got someone waiting on me. Gotta go.” The man said, finishing his call, waiting to hear from the person on the on the other end before hanging up. He stepped away from his truck and approached the woman. He was almost everything she had expected to see from a farmer, wearing a plaid button shirt with old jeans and weathered mud covered boots, a shaved head underneath a chewed baseball hat, and a strong, barrel chest with thick forearms. In her experience, even with all of their machinery and technology, farming was not for the weak willed, and for a man of this age to be at it still, it was apparent that weak was the last thing to describe him. As she looked over him, it was obvious that he was doing the same for her, which to be fair, wasn’t offensive. After all, she was an intruder in his world here, it wasn’t every day that a dark skinned woman wearing a lavender dress and a tattoo of a traditional Egyptian motif over her eye walks onto one’s property.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi there.” He said, a very friendly and casual drawl. “You must be one of Jimmy’s… friends. Sorry about the call, I have to go meet with the bank to discuss a loan. Call me Ethan, What can I do ya for?”</p><p> </p><p>“Jim?” she asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry.” He said, “I forgot that he goes by ‘Jack’ now. Its kind of funny, he never really did like his name. We heard what happened way back then, but part of me wasn’t really surprised when he showed up again. It was kinda funny, because I hadn’t seen a Morrison after my dad bought the land fifteen years ago.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” she asked, “what happened?”</p><p> </p><p>“Him and Old Man Morrison never really did get along.” He said, “Everything was so crazy back then. Apparently, something happened that one night, Jim drove away and enlisted in the army, and it was like he walked off the face of the earth. Life moved on, but something broke in Jim Jr.”</p><p> </p><p>The sneaking suspicion that this was Jack Morrison’s boyhood home had been on Fareeha’s mind, and now that mystery had come to a close. But that left another question on her mind at what the farmer had said. “Jr.?” she asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry,” he said, “The man you know is James Jacques Morrison III. It makes sense that he would go by Jack now. But that’s enough about the salt of the earth, what brought you all the way out here?”</p><p> </p><p>Interesting discoveries of Uncle Jack’s past aside, Fareeha had come over here with an objective in mind, so getting down to business, she straightened herself up and said, “I was wondering if I could have something done for me. It shouldn’t be too difficult, just a piece of land tilled and some help moving things around in the barn.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.” He said, but at that moment, the phone in his hand began to buzz once more. He brought it up, cursed to himself, and then said, “I’m going to be tied up with the bank for a while, but if you need it done soon, my boy can do it for you. Him and his cousin are plinking with the .22 ‘round behind my barn. Tell ‘em I said so and it’ll get done.”</p><p> </p><p>She thanked him for the promise, and he began to climb into his truck, but before he turned the engine on, he stuck his head out the window, and said, “oh, my boy; and his name is my name, too. And my wife wanted to thank your friend… the… uh..”</p><p> </p><p>“English or German.” Fareeha said, careful not to implicate the neighbors more than necessary.</p><p> </p><p>“Your German friend for the deserts. And she said to come over if you all need anything else.” Soon after, he pulled away. Fareeha was surprised with how successful this little trip had been. The mystery of where Angela kept summoning all of her strange things from had finally come to a close.</p><p> </p><hr/>
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<hr/><p>As she had been told, the light report of a .22 long rifle acted as a beacon that lead her behind the barn and to two boys taking aim at plastic bottles on an old fence. The two looked to be about fifteen years old, and from her approach, they looked almost identical. Between them was a brick of rounds and bottles of soda that looked like prisoners awaiting to be lined up for execution. She approached the two from behind, not alerting them and unsure which one was which. Then she remembered what the farmer had said earlier and asked, “Ethan?”</p><p> </p><p>A head bolted up just as he pulled the trigger, causing his shot to go wide and whizz past the bottle.</p><p> </p><p>“Ha, H-O-R.” said the other boy.</p><p> </p><p>The shooter turned, annoyed, but then was startled when he looked at the stranger standing beside them. “Hello?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi,” she said, seeing how alarming her sudden appearance here may be. “I talked to your father, I’m from…” she thought for a moment, “across the street.”</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s see if I can make that shot. Red bottle to the left.” Said the other boy, working the bolt on the single-shot rifle, and then aiming at one of the bottles in their lineup and shooting.</p><p> </p><p>Annoyed, Fareeha continued, “I need you to till a piece of land for me. About 250 meters long from the barn. Your father sai-”</p><p> </p><p>He shot, and the boy’s head jerked forward to see what the result was. Upon seeing the bottle still standing, he made a mocking laugh and shouted, “Ha, you couldn’t hit the broad side of a-”</p><p>Mid sentence, a loud boom split the air. The boys reflexively covered their ears and buried their heads as more booms followed in its place. When it was over, the two slowly looked up, seeing all of the bottles blown off of the post. They then looked around to see what had happened, and when the turned to see the mysterious stranger, they found her standing there with her dress pulled up to reveal a holster around her thigh. In her hand was a semiautomatic pistol with smoke rising from its barrel and electronic earbuds in both ears.</p><p> </p><p>She raised the gun to her lips, blowing the residual burning powder away before holstering it once more and letting her dress fall.</p><p> </p><p>“Do I have your attention now?” she asked.</p><p> </p><hr/>
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<hr/><p>Mission accomplished, Fareeha made her way back to the old Morrison residence. In her arm was a basket with empty tins and cleaned plates that had been used to transport Angela’s welcoming gifts. As for her, Fareeha just had to wait until her favor was complete, and she could finally put her plan into action. There was some preliminary things to do, and it never hurt to check things over a few extra times, but all that could be done while she waited. Now, it was all a matter of dealing with the doubts.</p><p> </p><p>No matter how old she got, how independent she became, whenever she did something she always had that little voice in the back of her head telling her to stop. She assumed that everyone had it, and the point of becoming an adult was knowing when to ignore it and when to not have to deal with the guilt of it, but it still happened, and today was no different.</p><p> </p><p>Angela’s protests, the insistence that she was fine, she had seen and heard it all before, saying you’re alright when the opposite was true, everybody did that. But, not everybody was Dr. Ziegler. As she walked back to the house, Fareeha was left wondering if what she was doing was… well…. Right? Doing something to help her relax seemed like something that didn’t have any consequences to it. To her, it was like helping someone with a door or lift a heavy load. But the things that Lena had said were still in her thoughts as well. It seemed like this restlessness wasn’t just a malady or something in need of a cure. Angela’s condition may sound awful, but at the same time she had turned it into a strength. Maybe the stress of life, the stress that made the adult that she would become, maybe it was a good thing? Maybe her restless need to accomplish, to achieve, to do, maybe that was what fueled her to thrive in higher learning at such a young age, maybe it was what made her excel in her field so well, maybe the sleepless nights and constant challenge and revision of her obstacles was what lead to her creating her life changing inventions. Then, there was Fareeha, trying to take something like that away from her, from the world. Was it right? Could her actions cause more harm than good? She didn’t know.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe some people are meant to suffer, maybe some things don’t need to be solved, and maybe Dr. Angela Ziegler not getting a good sleep was a good thing for the rest of the world. Hell, when she thought of it, it kind of reminded her of one of those “Spooky Spaghetti” stories she used to read as a teen, where people who don’t sleep go crazy, but instead of going crazy, it made Angela a genius.</p><p> </p><p>She approached the door, opened it, slid the basket of plates through, and gathered her dress to make sure it didn’t get closed on the door. She let go of the door once she was through, and as always, the glass door closed with an affirmative *slam*. Maybe she was lost in her own thoughts so much that she didn’t notice it as she walked in, but once the door was closed behind her, she shifted her focus to find the rest of her housemates, and was immediately met by the cries of ecstasy.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, gawd! Please, harder, oh yes!” The cry of passion was alarming, but after calming down for a moment, Fareeha recognized it as Lena. She crept closer, hearing it coming from the kitchen, and slowly set the basket down.  “Yea- Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh! Ohhhhhhh~” she moaned.</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha recognized the sound, and knew what it was. If it was Lena, and nobody else had been here except her, then that left one other person as to who was causing the commotion, and that was Angela. Fareeha couldn’t judge, sure, she had grown up with these people as extended family, but they were all adults, she shouldn’t be surprised when they do adult things with each other. It was just that a part of her was… well… disappointed. Sure, when it came to Lena, she expected no less, but for Angela, a part of her felt… betrayed? She wasn’t sure, it was almost like the feeling she had when she came to the realization that, at one point, her parents had sex with each other.</p><p> </p><p>Either way, she should give the two some privacy and get changed into something more versatile. Hell, maybe this was what Angela needed to finally get some rest. But, before she walked away, she heard something that made her stop mid stride.</p><p> </p><p>“Dear Jesus, you're amazing! This is better than getting laid!” Lena declared.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Wait</em>…<em>That doesn’t sound right.</em>” She thought, and moved in to investigate.</p><p> </p><p>She walked through the kitchen, coming to the guest bedroom that, until then, was unoccupied. When she walked into the open doorway, she saw that the bed was now made, two pillows, cover, and fresh sheets on the mattress, and as she had expected, Angela and Lena were both in there. But instead of wearing nothing but each other at the moment, Angela was still in her shirt and overalls, and biting her lip as she did her best to suppress her laughter. Meanwhile, Lena was face down on the floor, eyes rolling and mouth drooling as her feet were up in the air, in the doctor’s hands while she used her thumbs to rub her soles and work out the tight spots and kinks on the underside of the runner’s feet.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Two nights later…</em>
</p><p> </p><p>It had been almost a week, and Angela hadn’t slept for more than ten minutes at a time. She had gone through all of the habits that she had learned and was told could help her unwind, take a warm shower, exercise, word puzzles, writing her thoughts down, or just sitting in the dark in meditation, but nothing worked. It just left her physically tired, but brain still chugging along at its normal pace.</p><p> </p><p>She was sitting in the dark, in the living room of the farmhouse, she had let Lena go off to bed. There was no use in keeping her up if she would be wide awake, and like every other night, Fareeha was off doing… whatever she was doing in that barn. It was amazing how much Fareeha had grown up after all this time. As she thought of it, it really reminded her of how Ana used to be at times. But there was still a part of Angela that still saw her as the little girl who would steal lollipops from her office when she wasn’t looking.</p><p> </p><p>Dress needing to be washed, Angela had changed into a sweater and jeans, and while she waited for Fareeha to come in for the night, she sat in the living room armchair with a quilt over her lap and pen and paper in her hands. She felt like she was in a fog, her eyes heavy, but still, she was stubbornly awake. She had tried to just close her eye and drift, but that never worked, the sounds of the world around her would echo like thunder in her ears, and if she let her mind drift, then a stroke of inspiration would hit her, and cause her to slam her eyes open and write it down before it was lost forever.</p><p> </p><p>At the thought of her notes, she opened her eyes a little wider, and although in the dark, her eyes were acclimated enough to see what she had written. She began to flip through the documentation of her thoughts, finding that all of the sheets were filled from the front cover to back. She gave a depressed sigh, setting it down and closing the book once more. She dialed back her focus and stared at the wall, but this time, her vision became more and more blurry.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>is this it?</em>” she thought. “<em>Can I finally rest now</em>?” she asked. Her mind a passenger in her own body, her head began to feel heavy, slipping further and further into a slump as her vision began to fill with the sight of the quilt on her lap.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>No…</em>” she protested, “<em>I can’t sleep yet</em>.<em> Fareeha is still out there, she may need me.</em>” She opened her eyes a bit more, but she felt drunk, head spinning in a pleasant light feeling. She reached her hand over to the end table where a half drunken cup of coffee had kept her company throughout the evening. She reached for the liquid energy, hand feeling numb as she controlled a limp limb by inching it closer and closer to her goal.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Just a little while longer</em>,” she promised, “<em>after she’s in, I’ll go to bed</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Her hand reached the lip on the cold brown beverage, but before she could put her strength around it, the cup was ripped from her grasp, startling her and making her jump in the seat. She looked up, and saw Fareeha standing behind her, wearing jeans and a jacket, a pair of sunglasses, and downing the rest of the coffee.</p><p> </p><p>“You awake?” she asked. Her high energy ignoring the fact that it was late in the night.</p><p> </p><p>“I- Uh, yes…” she said, noticing that, like every other time she thought that she would finally get some sleep, was now fully lucid.</p><p> </p><p>“Good.” The Egyptian said. “Grab your blanket, I have something to show you.”</p><p> </p><p>Angela tilted her head, about to ask, “what do you have for me?” but at that moment, noticed that there was an loud ambient rumbling shaking the world around them. Instead, she asked, “what’s that noise?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll show you, come on!” she said, walking out the front door.</p><p> </p><p>Remembering the promise she had made to herself a few seconds prior, Angela stood up, shrugged her shoulders, and said to herself, “oh well.” Before gathering up her blanket and carrying it folded over in her arms.</p><p> </p><p>It really was later than she had thought, for when she walked out of the door, the first thing she saw was the very first glimpses of the sun lighting the tip of the horizon. It really was a sight to behold, the bright colors touching the dark land and reaching up into what was left of the night sky, if she had some drawing utensils or paint, she would have loved to put her hand at trying to capture it, even if the end result of her attempt at copying it would be a pale imitation. But that didn’t answer what was causing all the racket. It wasn’t until she shifted her vision down to the field in front of her that she noticed the nearby barn had its doors open, and more importantly, there was a airplane in the fields. It was a single engine plane, with a double sized cockpit and canopy that connected to the fixed wings above it. There was a red stripe on the rudder, and matching stripes on the wings and across the body. The propeller at the nose was running slowly, just enough to see it as it made circles at the nose of the craft.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve been fixing it up all week.” Fareeha said, appearing beside her at the entryway. “I had the neighbors build a runway, and we’re all ready to go.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wh- Vhere did you find a plane!” she asked, accent slipping more at the discovery. She brought a hand up to her chest, frightened at the discovery almost as if she had woken up to find a large wild animal just outside of her bedroom window.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s an old crop duster from a few years ago.” Fareeha answered, “I used to train on this model when I was in the Egyptian airforce.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure it’s safe?” she asked, becoming more frightened as she realized what this all meant.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m positive, maintaining our equipment was part of our training. I checked all the parts and have made double sure that everything is in working order.” She turned her attention away from the plane and to her charge. “Let’s go take it for a spin!” she declared.</p><p> </p><p>Angela took a step back, bringing her hand closer to her chest in fright, “I- I don’t know…” she said.</p><p> </p><p>In response, Fareeha reached up, gingerly taking a hold of the doctor’s hand in her gloved hands, “Everything will be alright.” She insisted, “Come fly with me.” Against her better judgement, and seeing the twinkle of Fareeha Amari of years past, Angela agreed, and the two made their way to the roaring engine with wings.</p><p> </p><p>Taking her hand to ensure that she didn’t back out, Fareeha lead Angela to the plane and opened the latch door on the cockpit. She helped the doctor up, and then made her way to her own side, getting into the seat before strapping herself in. The doctor had already belted herself into the seat, and was now tightly grabbing the quilt that she had carried with her. The engine was loud, especially now that they were both behind it, but to remedy the situation, Fareeha pulled down both sets of headphones and put one on before offering the second to her passenger.</p><p> </p><p>With both noise canceling and a wired microphone function, the two could understand each once more. “Are you ready?” Fareeha asked, preparing to return to her element.</p><p> </p><p>“Fareeha,” she said back, “I’ll have you know, just because I used to have a set of wings on my Valkyrie Suit, that doesn’t mean I enjoy the sensation of flying.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” she said back, flipping switches across the board and reading the meters and dials.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, don’t worry.” She said, “I haven’t crashed yet, so I’m pretty sure we’ll be okay.”</p><p> </p><p>In response, Angela bowed her head and quickly made the sign of the cross on her chest.</p><p> </p><p>Like the first clicks of a roller coaster cart leaving its station, the plane began to make its trek forward. From both the quickening propeller blade and electric assistance of the fixed wheels, the vessel began to make its way over uneven ground, heading forward before turning and approaching a stripe of different colored dirt in the open field. As requested, the path was flat, as Fareeha had walked it out, it was 250 meters, and the end was marked by two plastic drum barrels.</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha lined up the plane down the center of the line and reached for the throttle, freeing the knob and beginning to ease it forward. But, before she began, she felt something on her gloved hand. She looked down, and saw that Doctor Ziegler had wrapped her hand down around hers, her long fingers squeezing between her knuckles as her other hand was up to her chest, terrified of what was to happen next. Fareeha released the throttle, brought Angela’s hand down onto the switch, and then wrapped hers around it, holding on tight as the she brought the engine up to full power.</p><p> </p><p>Being powered by the propeller, the plane began to move down the runway, picking up speed as the engine roared louder and louder, first there were a few bumps, then just a mild jolt or two, and then finally the ride smoothed out, skipping over the earth until Fareeha pulled back on the controls, bringing them skyward.</p><p> </p><p>Like standing underneath a waterfall, the G force increased, pulling them further into their seats, pushing against their bodies as the scene outside of the glass filled with more and more blue sky. Finally, after evening off the aircraft, they reached their cruising altitude and the feel of the acceleration ceased.</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha loved this feeling, freedom, like being a bird and stretching out her wings to fly away from all of the troubles below. It wasn’t the same as some of the more advanced gear she had used, or the more involved zero G and high-altitude training she had undertaken, but she would take this, regardless.  As they were now, they could see for even further than before on the open earth, different textures and patterns as combines and tractors were out in the early morning, tilling and planting their seeds into the healthy dirt. Still heading in a straight trajectory, she pulled up, increasing their altitude until they disappeared into some morning overcast. When they emerged, they were sailing over a sea of white, nothing but the circling sky above them, and the bright beacon of the sun ushering them forward.</p><p> </p><p>Possibly from her fear subsiding or noticing her own subconscious action, Angela’s hand left Fareeha’s, the Swiss woman retreating back to her own persons. Through the headset, Fareeha heard her whisper out the word, “Schön…”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Beautiful.</em>” Fareeha thought, translating it from her childhood living in Switzerland. Fareeha looked to the passenger beside her. The main compartment of the craft wasn’t necessarily roomy, but it wasn’t cramped either. What she saw was something akin to pure bliss, like the look people in a crisis had after being injected with Morphine. She sat back in her chair, leaning her head to the side as she watched out the passenger’s window, staring out at the hypnotic pattern of clouds around them. She looked… tired, like the time that Fareeha had caught her waiting on the porch after she began this endeavor, but unlike before, her disconnected look didn’t have the hungry feel of someone who was trying to get the most out of the world, instead, she looked content. Her eyes were only three-quarters open, body relaxing, and the bothers of the world were far from her mind.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, it really is.” Fareeha said back.</p><p> </p><p>Outside of the thin barrier of glass, metal, and wood, the world was nasty, ripping winds and gusts of cold that shook the craft, but it was nothing but a gentle hum within the metal womb of the Cessna 150, they were safe from all of the troubles around them. It was perfect… well, almost perfect. Fareeha thought of Jack Morrison, the man who had brought them all together, the man that Angela loved, the man that left her behind to rectify the broken world that they all lived in. Fareeha wondered where he was right now. That in itself must have been the life of Angela Ziegler day in and day out, putting on a pretty face and doing what she had to do each day, but always wondering where he was, what he was up to, and wracked with guilt over if he needed her. It was just a shame that he wasn’t the one here right now, the one to be her knight in shining armor…</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha shook her head in personal disagreement. She didn’t need Uncle Jack to do this. He wasn’t here, but she was. She was Fareeha Amari, knight in leather armor, with a magical weapon in 9x19 millimeter, riding in on her gas powered steed to rescue the princess held captive from the monster that was her own restless mind. For someone who spent their life in a selfless and thankless role, it may not have been the hero she wanted, nor one that she even asked for, but it was the one that she deserved.</p><p> </p><p>Not wanting to get too much attention from their little morning flight, Fareeha brought the aircraft around and began to head back, noting their mileage and altitude and keeping that in mind as they returned to the farm.</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha looked over, checking to see if what Angela had told her was really true, if a simple ride would be the remedy to her insomnia. As she peeked over, she saw that the doctor was still awake. “<em>oh well,</em>” She thought, but then decided to ask. “So… do you really hate flying?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I would definitely say I don’t enjoy it.” She said, still focused out the window.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, so why did you have the wings and lift unit on your old suit with Overwatch, then?”</p><p>“Simple, Fareeha. Because I had to.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Fareeha asked. She remembered the Valkyrie suit, it looked like a set of armor an Angel would wear rather than a functional set of bodyarmor. “Uncle Jack really made you install that?”</p><p> </p><p>Angela shook her head, “You misunderstand. It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was something that I needed. Nobody forced me, I chose to do it for them.”</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha thought on that for a moment, watching the wispy clouds around them as her own mind wandered, and then had another thought come to her mind. “Angela, It’s only you and me up here, right now. So, I wanted to ask you something. If you could go back and change anything that’s happened in your lifetime. Would you?”</p><p> </p><p>Still watching outside of the window, the doctor thought for a moment, mindlessly watching the earth below her before she answered. “I’ve made my choices in life and accepted the outcomes. I don’t see the use in wondering ‘what if’, because there’s so many things I wish could have happened differently,” she said, “I wish I could have stopped my parents from leaving on their final missionary trip. I wish I could have learned to play the piano, to dance, learned to knit, start a family. I lose track of all the things I regret.” She then turned to her pilot, looking her in the eye before saying, “but to change it? To change the person that <em>I </em>have become, to undo all that I’ve done and people I’ve met? No. I wouldn’t change a thing.”</p><p> </p><p>“You truly are selfless then, aren’t you?” Fareeha joked, but her passenger remained silent.</p><p> </p><p>The rest of the flight was uneventful, and before she knew it, the runway and its blue markers were in sight. Either by their gradual decrease in altitude or seeing the telltale signs of their landing zone, Angela sat up at attention in her seat while her hand found its way over to Fareeha’s on the throttle. Now, if she was feeling sadistic, Fareeha would tell a joke about landing, but felt that it wouldn’t be the time. So, as she had done before in training and practice, Fareeha began to decelerate the engine, bringing the plane closer to the ground, and like threading a needle, brought the plane back to earth. The ground was soft, it cushioned some of the landing, but it didn’t have the same smooth feel of a paved one. They jolted in their seats, Angela’s fingers dug deeply between Fareeha’s knuckles, but it was all over. The plane slowed down, the engine was brought back to a lower RPM, and Fareeha used their momentum and what was left of their power to roll towards the barn and nearby farmhouse.</p><p> </p><p>When all was said and done, they ended up almost back to where they had started. The sun was now up, and Fareeha checked her systems and she turned the engine off, looking over to see that everything was winding down normally before saying, “…and we have landed.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” Said Angela, leaning back in her chair with her eyes closed, taking a deep breath to calm down from the landing. “It seems we have.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait here, I’ll help you down.” Fareeha said, unstrapping herself and opening her door. She hopped out of the plane, walking around the engine to give it a once over, and then chocked the wheels with old blocks of wood. She would have to bring the plane back into the barn, but for now it just need to be secured.  She stepped up to the passenger side, and opened the door.</p><p> </p><p>It took her a minute to recognize it, but she could hardly believe what she saw. Having unstrapped herself, Dr. Ziegler was sitting in her seat, blanket over her lap and head resting against the glass of the door, sound asleep. Fareeha didn’t really know what to do. At that moment, the world was quiet, there was hardly a sound on this cool spring morning than a few gusts of wind. She was half inclined to close the door and let her be. But Angela deserved more than to just a shoddy bucket seat.</p><p> </p><p>Thinking quickly, Fareeha stepped up to the doorway and wrapped one hand around her knees while another was around her back. It wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, but she managed to climb down the steps to the plane while supporting the weight in her arms, and after she got to the ground, she was satisfied to hear a hearty snore in her arms. Trying to be as stable as she could be, Fareeha walked across open field and lawn and up the porch to the front door. The main door was open, and using her hands underneath he doctor’s legs, she unhooked the glass door and used her foot to swing it open. She walked through, but then had a voice scream in her head, “<em>FUCK! That door’s gonna slam!</em>”</p><p> </p><p>As it had done numerous times already, the slamming door swung on its piston, and Fareeha, not wanting her harebrained idea to go to waste, did the only thing that she could do at the moment. Her foot shot back, and as she had expected, the door gave out, slamming shut but being blocked by her ankle.</p><p> </p><p>She bit her lip, face getting red, and foot felt like it just been caught between a hammer and a nail, but she did not make a sound. Closing her eyes while balancing on one foot, she eased her wounded leg out, easing the door closed and latched it in position with a soft click. When she looked down, all she could see was Angela’s blonde hair still tucked into her chest.</p><p> </p><p>Noticing that the door had opened, Lena appeared in the kitchen. Just from the look in her eyes, Fareeha could tell that she was about to shout, “Good morning!” but she covered her mouth with both of her hands when she saw the two. Fareeha looked up at the staircase to their bedrooms, and Lena looked at the doorway to the basement bedroom, both having to take old and creaky stairs to reach the next level, but then Lena had an idea. Using a finger, she beckoned Fareeha into the kitchen, and then tiptoed out of sight.</p><p> </p><p>Walking on even footfalls, Fareeha made her way forward, trying to stay as light on her feet as possible as Dr. Ziegler muttered something in her sleep. She made it to the kitchen, and then saw Lena had opened the door to the guest bedroom. As she had summoned her in, Lena had drawn the windows closed, and peeled the sheets open. Minding the doctor’s head through the doorways, Fareeha brought her into the room and stood beside the bed. Lena, seeing her legs in the air, undid Angela’s shoes and set them aside. From there, Fareeha squatted down, bringing her to the bed, and then slipped her arms free, and to complete it all, Lena brought the sheets up to her chin.</p><p> </p><p>Satisfied, the two women gave each other a nod and silently exited the room and closed the door behind them. Fareeha walked to the living room and sat down on the couch, letting out a held breath and wiped her forehead. Lena, looking out the front door, pointed at the plane excitedly and then shrugged her shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>Fareeha pointed at herself, made a flying motion with her hands, and then mouthed out the word, “barn.”</p><p> </p><p>Lena nodded, motioned for Fareeha to stay, and then made her way out the front door, walking it shut, and then made her way to take care of the plane.</p><p> </p><p>Alone at last, Fareeha put her hands through her smooth black hair, rubbing her eyes before bending over and rubbing the mark on her ankle from the door. She didn’t really believe it worked, but it did. Hell, after spending all night making sure the plane was ready, she was tired herself. But, she supposed this was mission accomplished.</p><p> </p><p>But then, some doubt set in her mind. It was almost too good to be true. Angela was too kind, she would probably feel guilty about having all this stuff done for her and wouldn’t want Fareeha to feel like she wasted her time. Fareeha felt some dread beginning to build up in the pit of her stomach. She hoped that Angela wasn’t just faking all of this to make her feel better. In a flash, she reached into her pocket, dismissed all the motion tracker alerts that she had caused throughout the morning, and then selected the house’s security camera. She selected the guest bedroom, and waited as the screen loaded.</p><p> </p><p>She half expected Angela to be sitting up in bed like she had been before, leaning up with her weight against a folded pillow while she scribbled ideas into her notepad, but to her surprise, the doctor had rolled over to her side, arms stretched out and eyes firmly shut.</p><p> </p><p>The sight brought relief to her mind, as she leaned her head back, she let out a long sigh, and unknowingly slipped off into dreamland.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well, I really wish I had an editor, and I feel that some parts are a little sloppy and drag on, but its done. Two years ago, it was a simple story that spiraled into something bigger, so I had to wrangle it down to be coherent, but I hope it worked out in the end. I'm happy with it as of now, and I hope you enjoyed it. Please tell me what you thought of the story, and if you want more I do have an idea for a bonus chapter or two.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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